Sheepfold Membership

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 22, 2018

4 Easter B

          Some 40 years ago, a Presbyterian Church and a Jewish temple came together for a joint Thanksgiving service.   That service has grown over the last 4 decades to include a Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Episcopal, and American Baptist church along with an Islamic Center.  Every year, the clergy and various lay leaders of the different faith communities gather to plan a service in which everyone can give thanks together for our many blessings.  The service is always rich with shared stories, prayers, and music from our various traditions and each year the service is held in a different house of worship.  We learned something about ourselves and about each other as we engaged the sacred writings and traditions of other faiths.  After the service we enjoyed one another's company over coffee and cookies and we built good relationships with each other over the years.  When 9/11 and other disasters occurred, I was so grateful for these long-standing relationships.  The religious leaders could come together quickly to respond to the needs of the community, working to build unity in times that could divide.  Through our work together over the years, members of the participating congregations have developed deep respect for one another's faith.

So, I am caught up short by Peter's proclamation in the reading from Acts this morning.  "There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."  Peter sounds exceedingly exclusive.  There is no salvation at all for those who do not believe in Jesus?  When I would gather with my brothers and sisters of the other Abrahamic faiths at Thanksgiving, was I to believe that their faith traditions are just wrong and we Christians have the only real relationship with God?  At a deep intuitive level, that claim seems wrong to me. Fortunately, all of our readings this morning provide some context for hearing Peter's words.

          This morning, Peter and John have just healed a man who was lame from birth when we find the two disciples in prison, being interrogated by the entire family of the high priest.  The charge against the two men is first that they are teaching about the resurrection, then that they have claimed some power that does not belong to them.  Peter's defense argument is brilliant.  Peter transforms the charges against him from a charge of blasphemy to the charge that he has done a good deed for someone who was sick.  Who can argue against a good deed done for someone who is sick?  Peter's claim is that he could not heal the man by his own power, but that the lame man could only be healed by Jesus, thus proving that Jesus was the Messiah.  Peter is not speaking to the Roman Council, and he has no other faith in mind when he tells his very own people that their salvation comes through Jesus.  Peter is essentially saying "Look what amazing things God is doing in our midst!"  A few chapters later, in Acts chapter 10, Peter will say "I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him."   This morning, Peter is challenging his own people to see what Jesus is doing in their midst, and a few chapters later, Peter is clear that God shows no partiality.

The 4th Sunday of Easter, which is today, is traditionally known as "Good Shepherd Sunday."  On this Sunday every year, we hear one of the gospel stories from John that portray Jesus as the Good Shepherd.  Today, we hear Jesus say "I am the Good Shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me.  And I lay down my life for the sheep."  Over the centuries, the church has tried to figure out who, exactly, Jesus sheep are.  Who is in the fold and who is out?  The seemingly obvious answer is that Christians are Jesus' sheep.  And we are.  But Jesus also says "I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.  I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice."  Jesus' claim is that he has sheep we don't even know about, who will also listen to his voice.  Just a few verses earlier, Jesus said "The sheep follow the Good Shepherd because they know his voice."  The very definition of Jesus' sheep is that they know his voice and follow him. That is the whole definition.  We do not get to decide who is in the fold and who is not.  Jesus does.  And in John's gospel, that news infuriates his audience.

 But to focus on the sheep is to miss the point.  The point is the Good Shepherd.  When Jesus says "I am the Good Shepherd," he is not simply saying that he will take good care of the sheep. Throughout the Old Testament, in the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, and in the Psalms, specifically the 23rd Psalm that we read/sang this morning, God is identified as the Shepherd. In the Hebrew Scriptures, most of the work of the Shepherd has to do with justice, providing food for the poor, strengthening the weak, and binding up the injured.  When Jesus says "I am the Good Shepherd," Jesus is pointing to those very scriptures and telling his listeners that he is God.

Many chapters later, at the end of John's gospel, after Jesus has been crucified and has risen, three times Jesus will ask Peter, the same Peter we hear from in the reading from Acts, "Peter, do you love me?"  Three times, Peter will say "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."  And each time, Jesus will respond "Feed my sheep."  Feed my sheep.  The work of the Shepherd and the work of the sheep is the same-the work of justice, feeding the hungry, strengthening the weak.  The command of the gospel is that we love Jesus by feeding his sheep, whether the sheep are starving for food, or justice, or healing, or acceptance.  As the writer of 1 John so pointedly puts it "How does the love of God abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and refuses to help?"  The command of the gospel is that we let the love of God abide in us and that we act on that love.  That is our job.  Sheepfold membership decisions are the job of the Good Shepherd.

                                                                            Amen.

Wounds

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 15, 2017

3 Easter B

          My friend Donna was the Executive Director of Project Woman, a domestic violence shelter and advocacy center in Springfield, Ohio where Don and I used to live.  When Donna began her work at Project Woman, the organization was a very small shelter that could accommodate only a few women and their children.  Donna poured her heart and her life into Project Woman, and by the time she retired some two decades later, Project Woman had a large shelter, transitional housing, crisis management, a 24 hour hotline, and was a thorn in the flesh of the Ohio state house where Donna advocated for better legal protection for victims of domestic violence.  Project Woman was not just a job for Donna.  The stories of the women she served were her own story.  Her life had not been an easy one. Divorce, disappointment, brokenness, betrayal, and despair were all part of her story and they were all part of what she poured into her work at Project Woman as she turned her own pain into someone else’s hope.  After Donna retired, her health began to fail.  She faced some very scary times and there were a few times when we wondered how much longer we would have Donna with us.  But time and again, she pulled through and she became a volunteer hospital chaplain, once again turning her own difficult experiences into someone else’s hope.

          This morning, the resurrected Jesus appears among the disciples. The story we just heard from Luke’s gospel is very similar to the story we heard last week from John’s gospel.  In both stories, the resurrected Jesus appears to the disciples, terrifying them.  This morning, the disciples believe that they are seeing a ghost, which is quite reasonable.  The last time they saw Jesus, the disciples had stood at a distance, watching as Jesus was crucified.  What could Jesus possibly be now other than a ghost?  As in John’s gospel, Jesus shows the frightened disciples his hands and his feet which still bore the marks of crucifixion.  By seeing those wounds, healed but still present, the disciples understand that Jesus is, indeed, fully alive in their midst.   

          Then, to further prove that he is not a ghost, Jesus asks for something to eat.  Up until now, Jesus is the one who has done the feeding, turning a few fish and loaves of bread into a meal for thousands.  Now, the disciples feed Jesus, serving him a piece of broiled fish, which Jesus eats in their presence.

          But recognizing the risen Christ goes even deeper than recognizing him by the wounds in his hands and feet and his ability to eat.  Jesus reminds the disciples of everything written about him in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms, which is to say the totality of scripture at that time.  Recognizing Jesus also comes from knowing the scriptures, the story of God’s saving work since creation.  For the writer of Luke’s gospel, all of scripture points to the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  When the disciples understand that, they will understand that the one they thought to be a ghost is actually the fulfillment of the law and the prophets.  The natural response to all that God has done from creation through the resurrection is to proclaim repentance and the forgiveness of sins to all nations, beginning right where they are standing in Jerusalem.

          The stories in the law of Moses, the words of the prophets, and the poetry of the psalms point us to the Messiah.  Those stories also connect us with stories in which the wounds of a people do not have the final word and can bring hope to others.  One clear example is the command in the book of Exodus that admonishes God’s people not to mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for God’s people were mistreated and oppressed foreigners in Egypt.  God’s people were delivered from slavery in Egypt and led through the wilderness into the Promised Land, but they have never forgotten their time in slavery.   Their sense of hospitality to strangers is rooted in their experience of being strangers themselves.  God calls them to use that corporate wound to bring hope to others. 

          The Easter message, and the message to which Scripture points, is not that there are no wounds.  The Easter message is the promise that, ultimately, neither Jesus’ wounds nor our own have the final say.  When Jesus says “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus is stating a fact, not making a request.  Jesus is telling us that our lives, our whole lives, as individuals or as families or as a church, witness to the power of resurrection.  My friend Donna used her life to show that truth to the world, using her own healed wounds to bring hope to others.  Our lives, steeped in our relationship with Jesus and our knowledge of the scriptures, continue to tell the story that wounds do not have the final word.  Jesus states as fact that we are witnesses that forgiveness triumphs over sin, love triumphs over hate, and life triumphs over death.  We are witnesses to resurrection hope.

                                                                                      Amen.

Fear

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 1, 2018

Easter

          When I was a child, Easter meant two things-lots of chocolate and a scratchy white dress.  My sister and I would race downstairs on Easter morning, knowing that if we did not get to the Easter baskets before our little brother did, all the good chocolate would be gone.  Because my sister and I were the only granddaughters on both sides of the family, our grandmothers always made sure my sister and I had new white dresses for Easter, and the frillier the better in their eyes.  While we were not thrilled about the dresses, even at a young age we knew that the dresses were gifts of love and we adored our grandmothers.  Easter began and ended with chocolate, and we tolerated the dresses and soaked up the love in the middle.

          The problem with Easter in our eyes was that when Easter was over, the party was really over.  Unlike Christmas, where there were new toys to play with the next day and for weeks and even months to come, on Easter, once the chocolate was gone, which was always by bedtime if not before, there was nothing left but the dress, and we were plenty happy to put the dress away for a while.  Easter was wonderful, but the celebration was completely over the very next day.

          This morning, we hear an Easter story that almost seems to be over before the story begins.  Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome are on their way to the tomb with the sad duty of anointing Jesus’ body for burial.  They are heading to the tomb even though they know full well that Jesus’ body is behind a stone they cannot move.  So, why are they going?  They are neither the first nor the last grieving people to do something that makes no sense!

          When they arrive at the tomb, much to their surprise, the stone has been moved.  Either someone else has come to anoint the body ahead of them, or someone with malicious intent has rolled the stone away.  The women are clearly alarmed when they enter the tomb, where they find a young man dressed in a white robe who gives them this message: “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified.  He has been raised.  He is not here….But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him as he told you.” 

          Jesus is not here.  He has been raised.  We come to church on Easter expecting to see the empty tomb and hear those very words.  We celebrate with festive music, alleluias, and gorgeous flowers.  But the women were taken by complete surprise and have a most different reaction.  The women fled the tomb, for terror and amazement seized them, and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.  And those are the final words in Mark’s gospel.

          The women have been criticized relentlessly in the commentaries over the years, having their faith and their discipleship called into question.  Despite the direction of the young man in the tomb to go tell the disciples and Peter, the women fled and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.  What kind of faithful response is that to the good news that Jesus has been raised from the dead?

          In the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you that this is my absolute favorite Easter story.  If the women really understand that Jesus has been raised from the dead, that the bonds of death have been broken and the power of death has been overcome, then they understand that the world has been turned upside down. Now they live in a world where anything is possible and death no longer has the final word. If resurrection can happen, what else is possible? All of the rules are changed now. How do we live in a world like that? Terror and amazement seem to me a perfectly appropriate immediate response to this brand new reality. The women actually understand the far-reaching implications of resurrection.  We know that the women did not keep their silence forever, because we are here. The shock value of resurrection may be lost on us all these years later, but the women understood that nothing, nothing, will ever be the same. I think Mary, Mary and Salome are the ones who actually understand the impact of the Easter message.

How do we live in a world in which Jesus is risen from the dead? We have the gift of hindsight, which the women did not have. The women kept walking to the tomb even though they had no idea how they would move the stone from the entrance to the tomb.  Easter happens every time we keep walking toward challenges that seem impossible, knowing that there is no stone we must move by ourselves. The women were alarmed by the empty tomb. We are blessed with the knowledge that the tomb is empty, but Easter happens every time we join the women in beholding the magnitude of what God has done for us in raising Jesus from the dead. The women fled from the tomb in terror and amazement at the news that Jesus was now in Galilee.  Easter happens every time we go out to meet Jesus in the Galilee of our own lives, the very ordinary places where we live and work day in and day out.  Easter is not just a day with lots of chocolate and scratchy new dresses, or lots of chocolate, wonderful music, beautiful flowers, and the return of the Alleluias.  Easter is a way of life, in which we find Jesus, not sealed in a tomb, but meeting us where ever we go, what ever challenges we face, and promising that there is no stone we must roll away alone.   

                                                                                   Amen.                                                                                            

Journey

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 25, 2018

                                                                 Palm Sunday

When Slocomb and Caldwell, our two sons, were in high school, I took them to a political rally.  Several hours before the rally began, a long line had formed in front of the security entrance, where guards were stationed with security wands and all bags had to be checked.  Once we finally cleared security after about two hours in line, we had to find our assigned area in the crowd.  The challenge was to find a place to stand with no one holding a large sign in front of us.  This was an almost impossible task, especially since some of the signs were taller than I am.  The roar of the crowd was so loud that the only way the kids and I could communicate was by text message.  Once the speakers arrived, everyone pretty much quieted on cue, anxious to hear what the speakers had to say, and hear their promises about how tomorrow might be different.  Some people were there to hear the speeches; others were there to experience the excitement.  Still others probably came just to witness the sheer spectacle of the event or to sell their various political buttons and banners. 

This morning, we witness yet another political rally. This one, however, appears a little more spontaneous.  The only preparation was Jesus sending two disciples into the village to find a colt for Jesus to ride.  A very large crowd appears to form out of nowhere, clocks are spread on the ground, and branches are cut from the trees. As if on cue, the crowd erupts with shouts of Hosanna: “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

One of the most curious things about this event is that Jesus allows it to happen at all.  In fact, the procession appears to be his idea.  He is the one who sends the disciples to fetch the colt in the first place.  This is the same Jesus who was tempted in the wilderness after his baptism.  In Mark’s gospel, we are not about the specific temptations, but in Matthew and Luke, Jesus is tempted with glory and authority over all the kingdoms of the world.  Jesus replies with the words from Deuteronomy “Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.”  In all the gospels, Jesus declined to draw attention to himself and pointed the attention to the Kingdom of God.  Just a few verses before our gospel story this morning, Jesus said “I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  How odd that Jesus, who has resisted power and glory throughout the gospel, will now allow himself to be the center of so much attention, the object of the disciples’ praise, and to move toward Jerusalem in seeming triumph.  

“I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  When the disciples and the crowds rally around Jesus on the road to Jerusalem with shouts of praise, the words that Jesus spoke just a few verses ago are the last thing on their minds.  They are moving with Jesus toward Jerusalem where they have every hope that Jesus will do what King David did and make Israel a great and mighty kingdom again.  They are filled with hope that a better future is at hand.  Why, then, will we soon hear the “Hosannas” replaced with “crucify him!”

The reason, perhaps, is that the people who treat Jesus like a king want Jesus to go on their journey with them, rather than going with Jesus on his journey.  And perhaps the reason Jesus allows this procession to happen is because joining a parade is the only way people will follow him on his journey.

Palm Sunday calls us to go with Jesus on his journey, to make his journey our own, rather than to try to take Jesus where we want to go, even when the places we want to go are good and noble places.  Palm Sunday calls us to walk with Jesus on the journey through the last supper, his arrest and trial, his crucifixion and burial in the tomb, not because this path is easy, powerful, or glorious, but because Jesus’ path is the only way to resurrection.  There are no short cuts.  Jesus wanted the disciples and the crowds to follow, and Jesus wants us to follow, so that we will know and understand the king who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for all.

Amen.

Real

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 18, 2018

5 Lent B

A reading from “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams:  

"What is real?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, who was always truthful. "When you are Real, you do not mind being hurt." "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," the Rabbit asked, "or bit by bit?" "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because when you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

What is real? That is the question The Velveteen Rabbit asks the Skin Horse in this children's story. That question is also at the heart of our gospel lesson this morning.  What is real?

What is real? This morning, some Greeks approach Philip and they say "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Jesus’ response to the Greek’s request borders on being rude. When Philip and Andrew tell Jesus that the  Greeks wish to see him, instead of saying "yes," or "no," or "let’s meet for coffee tomorrow," Jesus says "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" and goes on about seeds dying and bearing fruit, and so forth.  That sounds like a “no” to me, but I find it rather hard to tell.  What kind of answer is that for those who simply wanted to see Jesus?

What is real? My guess is that the Greeks wanted to see Jesus because they had heard about the water Jesus changed into wine, the blind man Jesus had healed, the 5000 people Jesus fed with a few fish and loaves, and the man Lazarus Jesus had raised from the dead. They wanted to meet Jesus, to talk with him, and to try to understand this man who could do such miraculous things. Perhaps they may have even recognized that this man was from God, since no one could do such wonders apart from God. But those acts, incredible and wonderful as they are, are not what makes Jesus real.

What does make Jesus real? In response to the Greeks' request, Jesus offers three reflections on his death, and why the crucifixion and resurrection make Jesus real, rather than the miracles he has done. First, Jesus states a simple law of nature. In order for there to be more life, there must first be death. "Unless a single grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." In order for Jesus to be present in all times and in all places, to all people, he must die as one seed must die to produce much fruit. Secondly, real discipleship requires death to self-interest in order to have abundant life. "Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." The reason this is true for Jesus’ followers is because it is true for the one they follow.  In order to have more life, both now and forever, we, like Jesus, are called to give our lives away. And lastly, Jesus’ mission is to draw all the world to himself, and it is in his death that this will happen. Jesus’ death will not prevent his mission from being accomplished. Quite the opposite; according to the gospel of John, Jesus’ death is necessary for his mission to be fulfilled.

Jesus death is real. It is not what the world considers real, however. It is not glossy or shiny or pretty and it most definitely will hurt. It is nothing like having things that buzz inside you or a stick out handle. But if Jesus is to bring all the world to himself, which is John's understanding of salvation, Jesus must be freed from this world through his death, resurrection and ascension.  The Greeks say “Sir, we want to see Jesus.”  The message of Johns' gospel is that through Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, people in all times and places can say “We want to see Jesus” and Jesus will be available and present.

So, Jesus does give the Greeks a proper response, although perhaps not the response they were looking for.   We, like the Greeks, want to see Jesus.  We want to know what is real.  So, we will journey through these next two weeks, not leaping ahead to Easter, but walking with Jesus through his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, to his last supper with those whom he loves, his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, the betrayal by those closest to him, his trial and crucifixion, his death and his burial in the tomb. We walk with Jesus, not by simply tagging along, but by looking at our own lives, our pains, our disappointments and hurts, our failures and fears, the deaths we die daily and offering all of that to God for resurrection. We, with Jesus, offer the seeds of our lives to the ground, so that by God’s power those seeds can have new life and our lives can bear much fruit.  With Jesus, we use our lives to show others God’s glory so that they, too, will see Jesus. By connecting our own lives with the death and resurrection of Jesus, we will we experience the power of Easter as something real, and our lives will point to the resurrected Jesus.

Sir, we wish to see Jesus. The promise of the gospel is that through his crucifixion, death, and resurrection, we will see Jesus. And that, my friends, is real.

                                                                   Amen.

Snakes

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 11, 2018

4 Lent B

If our reading from Numbers this morning was the totality of Scripture, I would have to find something else to do with my life.  The problem is not so much the snakes, although they are a bit problematic.  A long time ago in a church not so far away and in this diocese, a parishioner brought his very large pet snake, draped around his shoulders, to church on the Feast of St. Francis for the animal blessing.  The parishioner did not much care for women priests and I did not much care for snakes.  So we were even.  But while a serpent may have gotten Eve to eat the forbidden fruit and be evicted from the Garden of Eden, I was going nowhere.  I blessed the snake with all the conviction I would have blessed a lovely plate of chocolate chip cookies and moved on down the line without so much as a grimace, at least on the outside. 

This morning my problem is less with snakes and more with God.  The Hebrew people have been wandering around in the wilderness for a while now.  The bit of grumbling we hear this morning is not the first time they have grumbled against God by a long shot.  Just about as quickly as God got the people out of Egypt, they were complaining about a lack of good water to drink.  God showed Moses a piece of wood that Moses could throw into the water to make the bitter water sweeter and more drinkable.  Not many verses later, the people are longing to go back to Egypt where at least they had decent food to eat.  So, God gave the people manna, or bread from heaven, to satisfy their hunger.  Then, thirst strikes again, and the people accused Moses of bringing them out into the wilderness to kill them with thirst.  This time, Moses struck a rock with his staff and water emerged from the rock for people to drink.

But this morning, God appears to have had enough.  We are told that the people spoke against God and against Moses and said "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?  For there is no food and no water and we detest this miserable manna."  The people have just told God that they detest the very life-giving bread God has provided.  My mother always told us not to bite the hand that feeds us.  Perhaps the Hebrew people should have thought of that.  Because now God loses patience.  God sends poisonous serpents among the people.  The serpents bite the people and they die.  As a result, the people recognize the error of their ways and repent.  They ask Moses to ask God to take away the serpents.  But rather than remove the creatures, God tells Moses to make a poisonous serpent and set it on a pole, so that those who look at the snake on a stick will live.  Where Moses got the bronze, the mold, and the fire to make the bronze serpent, I have no clue.  But Moses does as he was told and anyone with a snake bite could look at the serpent and live.

The story leaves me with many questions about God.  Why is God's patience suddenly exhausted by the complaining Hebrews?  Not only do the Hebrews complain in the wilderness, but the psalms are full of complaints hurled against God.  We just call them laments instead of complaints.  I certainly do my share of complaining to God.  My guess is that I am not alone.  So, I'd like to know exactly what put God over the edge this morning, so I don't go there.  Why does God take such drastic action against the people?  Why doesn't God simply take the serpents away rather than have Moses enshrine one and require that the people look at the serpent to be healed?  Is the purpose of the bronze serpent to remind the people of their wickedness?  Isn't that a lot like kicking people when they are down? That doesn’t seem like very godly behavior.

While I don't have good answers to any of these questions, the questions are floating around in my mind when I hear Jesus say to Nicodemus "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life."   Somehow, Jesus calls us to use the disturbing story about Moses and the serpents to understand the cross on which Jesus will soon be lifted up.  What connections does Jesus want us to make?

Here are some ideas.  First, in the story from Numbers, rather than take away the serpents, God turns the image of this agent of death into an agent of life.  By looking at the bronze serpent that has been lifted up, the people are healed, and they live.  Likewise, God will take the cross, an instrument of death, and when Jesus is lifted up, the cross will become an agent of life.  In John's gospel, the cross and resurrection are two pieces of one action, so in the cross, John also sees resurrection.  Secondly, perhaps instead of getting rid of the serpents, God has Moses lift a bronze likeness on a pole so the people can remember both their wickedness and God's mercy.  One of my least favorite lines in the Book of Common Prayer comes in the Ash Wednesday service when the priest offers absolution with the words "Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live."  Wickedness is a strong word, and one I would rather avoid myself.  But the word does point to the fundamental but painful truth that we are capable of deep separation from God and that separation is of our own doing, not God's.  The good news is that our salvation is completely dependent on God's mercy not our own goodness.

Lastly, in my imagination, once Moses lifts the bronze serpent up before the people and people begin to be healed when they look at the creature, people begin to tell their friends and neighbors and soon everyone is drawn to the bronze serpent, and they all begin to be healed. They are reminded of the cause of their affliction, for sure, but they are also united in the reminder that God's healing power is even more powerful than their own wickedness.  They are not only reminded, but shown, that God is the source of healing and life.  They are reminded that God can be trusted to take the serpents of death and create life.  When Jesus is lifted up, crucified then resurrected, for all the world to see, we are drawn together and to God as we engage both our rebelliousness and God's great power and love for us, as God takes the agent of death and creates life.

John 3:16 is perhaps the most often quoted verse in all of Scripture.  "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life."  John's words from there are quite polemical, which is unfortunate but reflects the reality of the tensions in late first century Judaism and Christianity.  The deeper message of John's gospel is that God acted out of love for the whole world, and with the desire to draw the whole world together and to God, as the agent of death was transformed into the agent of life.  John calls us not to look away from the cross on Good Friday, but to engage the cross.  Only on the cross will we be able to see Jesus lifted up and to wait, trusting, as all death is transformed into new life.

Amen.

Confusion

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 4, 2018

3 Lent B

          My most exasperating seminary experience was the course “Anglican Church History.”  In the first nano-second of the class, we figured out that our teacher, a graduate student from the University of Chicago, had never taught a class before.  But we were kind hearted souls and tried to be patient with convoluted lectures and confusing assignments.  The last straw came when we were given a take home open-book test.  I took the test home, found and wrote all the answers, turned the test in, and was quite puzzled to receive the test back and have one of my answers marked as incorrect.  How can you get an answer wrong on a take home open book test?  At the end of class, I went up to the teacher and inquired about my answer, which he insisted was wrong.  So, I politely got the textbook out, which was required for the course, and showed him where I got my answer.  His response was that the book was wrong.  My patience was running thin at this point.  I had done everything right, used the book he required, found the answer, and now I was wrong because the book was wrong.  I left the room before I said something I would regret and headed home furious that we had been required to purchase a book with wrong information, that the seminary would hire such a teacher, and that valuable time was being wasted in that class.

          I wonder if the people in the temple felt that same combination of confusion, frustration and fury when Jesus comes barging in with his whip of cords this morning.  The people in the temple were faithful people, trying hard to live according to God’s commandments.  Cattle, sheep, and doves were sold at the temple to help weary pilgrims procure the unblemished animals God required for the temple sacrifices.  Worshipers had walked for miles to get to Jerusalem for the Passover.  They couldn’t bring cattle, sheep and doves with them.  Unless they could buy the animals at the temple, they could not make the sacrifices they had traveled so far to make.  The money changers were required to convert the Roman currency into temple currency, just like we convert currency when we travel to another country.  There is always a fee, and in the case of the temple, there were sales taxes to be paid to the Romans.  Everyone at the temple was trying to be faithful to the laws given by God in the book of Leviticus and the laws of the state as dictated by the Romans.

          So, why is Jesus so upset this morning?  Which of the commandments are the people breaking?  Fortunately, we hear those commandments this morning in the reading from Exodus.   The people in the temple buying and selling animals for the sacrifice do not seem to be dishonoring their father or mother, murdering, committing adultery, stealing, bearing false witness, or coveting.  So, they are good on the last six commandments.  The problem must be in the first four commandments.  But the people don’t appear to have put another god before God, made an idol, made wrongful use of God’s name, or violated the Sabbath.  Quite frankly, they are doing all in their power to keep the law and honor God with the required sacrifices.  So what is Jesus so worked up about?

The story of the cleansing of the temple is found in all four gospels.  In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, however, the story occurs towards the end of the gospel.  The cleansing of the temple is the last straw that leads up to Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion as Jesus refers to the temple as a den of robbers.  But in John’s gospel, the story comes in chapter 2, so at the beginning of the gospel.  Jesus does not accuse anyone of being a robber.  He simply says “Stop making my Father’s house a market place.”  John also adds Jesus’ words “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” and the note that Jesus was speaking about his body.  Those words are not found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, so I think Jesus is up to something else in John’s gospel.

          Jesus obviously does not want his Father’s house turned into a market place.  The temple was thought to be the place where humans encountered God in a unique way, the place where the divine and the human meet.  The claim was not that the temple was the only place the people encountered God.  The Hebrew people had experienced God in their Exodus from Egypt, during their time in the wilderness, in their exile in Babylon far from the promised land, and on and on.  But the experience of God in the temple was uniquely holy.  However, in John’s gospel, Jesus is the place where the human and the divine meet.  John’s gospel begins “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God….and the Word became flesh and lived among us.”  In that sense, Jesus is the new temple.  When Jesus is asked “What sign can you show us for doing this,” Jesus replies “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”  The resurrection will allow people in all times and places to experience the fullness of God in Jesus.  This morning, Jesus brings all of the action in the temple to a dramatic halt, turning over tables and driving the people out of the temple in order to tell the people that he is the place where human and divine meet. 

          The people in the temple are no doubt confused, frustrated, and angry when Jesus shows up this morning and interrupts their activity.  But Jesus will do what is needed to get our attention.  Jesus wants us to know that he is the new temple, that he and God are one, and that when we encounter him, we encounter God.  Through the resurrection, Jesus is present in all times and in all places through his resurrected body.  As the Body of Christ, the Church, we are that resurrected body.  If Jesus were to show up here and get our attention by throwing furniture around, Jesus would do so to remind us that every action we take, day in and day out reflects God’s love to the world.  The sacrifice of cattle, sheep, and doves is not required.  As the Body of Christ, Jesus calls us to the sacrifice of self that makes possible the reflection of God’s love 

through our lives.

                                                                   Amen.